
Class_"F*/^ 4^ 
Book L4II6. 

CoiJ^iightN" ^^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



The Love Poems 



of 



Robert Browning 

and 

Leigh Hunt 







New York 

The Dodge Publishing Company 

40 West Thirteenth Street 



THE LliRAffV OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Cowbe REOcivto 

SEP. 1/ 1902 i 

-C0W1»HT EWTWV 

|CLA*8rtAx?N0 
COPY B. 



Copyright, 1902 
by Dodge Publishing Company 



[lyove Poems of Browning and Hunt] 



The Love Poems 



of 



Robert Browning 



O lady, there be many things 

That seem right fair, below, above ; 

But sure not one among them all 
Is half so sweet as love. 

— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



Robert Browning 




OR life, with all it yields of 
joy and woe, 
And hope and fear, — be- 
lieve the aged friend, — 
Is just our chance o' the 
prize of learning love. 
How love might be, hath 
been indeed, and is ; 
And that we hold thenceforth to the uttermost 
Such prize despite the envy of the world, 
And, having gained truth, keep truth : that 

is all. 
But see the double way wherein we are led. 
How the soul learns diversely from the flesh ! 
With flesh, that hath so little time to stay, 
And yields mere basement for the soul's 

emprise. 
Expect prompt teaching. Helpful was the 
light. 



Robert Browning 

And warmth was cherishing and food was 

choice 

To every man's flesh, thousand years ago, 

As now to yours and mine ; the body sprang 

At once to the height, and stayed: but the 

soul, — no ! 

— From "yf Death in the Desert ^ 



10 



Robert Browning 




iIVE her but a least excuse 
to love me ! 
When — where — 
How — can this arm estab- 
lish her above me, 
If fortune fixed her as 
my lady there, 
There already, to eternally 
reprove me ? 
{" Hist ! " — said Kate the queen ; 
But ''Oh," cried the maiden, binding her 
tresses, 
" 'Tis only a page that carols unseen. 
Crumbling your hounds their messes ! ") 



Is she wronged ? — To the rescue of her honor. 

My heart ! 
Is she poor? — What costs it to be styled a 
donor? 



II 



Robert Browning 

Merely an earth to cleave, a sea to part. 

But that fortune should have thrust all this 
upon her ! 
{'' Nay, list ! " — ^bade Kate the queen ; 
And still cried the maiden,binding her tresses, 

'''Tis only a page that carols unseen, 
Fitting your hawks their jesses ! ") 

— From " Fippa Passes.'' 



12 



Robert Browning 




A BALCONY. 



humiiiiiimI 



CONSTANCE and NORBERT. 

Nor. Now ! 

Con. Not now ! 

Nor. Give me them again, those hands — 
Put them upon my forehead, how it throbs ! 
Press them before my eyes, the fire comes 

through ! 
You cruelest, you dearest in the world, 
Let me! The Queen must grant whatever I 

ask — 
How can I gain you and not ask the Queen ? 
There she stays waiting for me, here stand 

you ; 13 



Robert Browning 

Some time or other this was to be asked : 
Now is the one time— what I ask, I gain : 
Let me ask now, Love ! 

Con. Do, and ruin us ! 

Nor. Let it be now, Love ! All my soul 
breaks forth. 
How I do love you ! Give my love its way ! 
A man can have but one life and one death, 
One heaven, one hell. Let me fulfil my 

fate — 
Grant me my heaven now ! Let me know 

you mine, 
Prove you mine, write my name upon your 

brow, 
Hold you and have you, and then die away. 
If God please, with completion in my soul. 

Con. I am not yours then ? How content 
this man ! 
I am not his — who change into himself, 

14 



Robert Browning 

Have passed into his heart and beat its beats, 
Who give my hands to him, my eyes, my 

hair, 
Give all that was of me away to him — 
So well, that now, my spirit turned his ov/n. 
Takes part with him against the woman 

here, 
Bids him not stumble at so mere a straw 
As caring that the world be cognizant 
How he loves her and how she worships him. 
You have this woman, not as yet that world. 
Go on, I bid, nor stop to care for me 
By saving what I cease to care about. 
The courtly name and pride of circum- 
stance — 
The name you'll pick up and be cumbered 

with 
Just for the poor parade's sake, nothing 
more ; 

15 



Robert Browning 

Just that the world may slip from under 

you— 

Just that the world may cry '* So much for 
him — 

The man predestined to the heap of crowns : 

There goes his chance of winning one, at 

least!" 

Nor. The world ! 

Con. You love it ! Love me quite 

as well, 
And see if I shall pray for this in vain ! 
Why must you ponder what it knows or 

thinks ? 

Nor. You pray for — what, in vain ? 

Con. Oh, my heart's heart. 

How I do love you, Norbert ! That is right : 
But listen, or I take my hands away ! 
You say, '' let it be now:'* you would go now 
And tell the Queen, perhaps six steps from us, 

i6 



Robert Browning 

You love me — so you do, thank God ! 

Nor. Thank God ! 

Con. Yes, Norbert, — but you fain would 
tell your love, 
And, what succeeds the telling, ask of her 
My hand. Now take this rose and look at it. 
Listening to me. You are the minister. 
The Queen's first favourite, nor without a 

cause. 
To-night completes your wonderful year's- 

work 
(This palace-feast is held to celebrate) 
Made memorable by her life's success. 
The junction of two crowns on her sole 

head. 
Her house had only dreamed of anciently : 
That this mere dream is grown a stable 

truth. 
To-night's feast makes authentic. Whose 

the praise ? 17 



Robert Browning 

Whose genius, patience, energy, achieved 
What turned the many heads and broke the 

hearts ? 
You are the fate, your minute's in the 

heaven. 
Next comes the Queen's turn. '' Name 

your own reward ! " 
With leave to clench the past, chain the to- 
come, 
Put out an arm and touch and take the sun 
And fix it ever full-faced on your earth, 
Possess yourself supremely of her life, — 
You choose the single thing she will not 

grant ; 
Nay, very declaration of which choice 
Will turn the scale and neutralize your 

work: 
At best, she will forgive you, if she can. 
You think I'll let you choose — her cousin's 

hand ? i8 



Robert Browning 

Nor. Wait. First, do you retain your old 
belief 
The Queen is generous, — nay, is just ? 

Con. There, there ! 

So men make women love them, while they 

know 
No more of women's hearts than . . . look 

you here, 
You that are just and generous beside. 
Make it your own case ! For example now, 
I'll say — I let you kiss me, hold my hands — 
Why ? do you know why ? I'll instruct you, 

then— 
The kiss, because you have a name at court, 
This hand and this, that you may shut in 

each 
A jewel, if you please to pick up such. 
That's horrible ? Apply it to the Queen — 
Suppose I am the Queen to whom you speak. 

19 



Robert Browning 

" I was a nameless man ; you needed me : 

Why did I proffer you my aid ? there stood 

A certain pretty cousin at your side. 

Why did I make such common cause with 
you? 

Access to her had not been easy else. 

You give my labor here abundant praise ? 

'Faith, labor, which she overlooked, grew 
play. 

How shall your gratitude discharge itself? 

Give me her hand ! " 

Nor. And still I urge the same. 

Is the Queen just ? just — generous or no ? 
Con. Yes, just. You love a rose ; no harm 
in that : 

But was it for the rose's sake or mine 

You put it in your bosom ? mine, you said — 

Then, mine you still must say or else be false. 

You told the Queen you served her for her- 
self ; 20 



Robert Browning 

If so, to serve her was to serve yourself, 
She thinks, for all your unbelieving face ! 
I know her. In the hall, six steps from us, 
One sees the twenty pictures ; there's a life 
Better than life, and yet no life at all. 
Conceive her born in such a magic dome. 
Pictures all round her ! why, she sees the 

world. 
Can recognize its given things and facts. 
The fight of giants or the feast of gods. 
Sages in senate, beauties at the bath. 
Chases and battles, the whole earth's display. 
Landscape and sea-piece, down to flowers 

and fruit — 
And who shall question that she knows them 

all, 
In better semblance than the things outside? 
Yet bring into the silent gallery 
Some live thing to contrast in breath and 

blood, 21 



Robert Browning 

Some lion, with the painted lion there — 
You think she'll understand composedly ? 
— Say, "that's his fellow in the hunting-piece 
Yonder, I've turned to praise a hundred 

times?'' 
Not so. Her knowledge of our actual earth. 
Its hopes and fears, concerns and sympathies, 
Must be too far, too mediate, too unreal. 
The real exists for us outside, not her : 
How should it, with that life in these four 

walls, 
That father and that mother, first to last 
No father and no mother — friends, a heap, 
Lovers, no lack — a husband in due time, 
And every one of them alike a lie ! 
Things painted by a Rubens out of naught 
Into what kindness, friendship, love should 

be; 
All better, all more grandiose than the life, 

22 



Robert Browning 

Only no life ; mere cloth and surface-paint, 
You feel, while you admire. How should 

she feel ? 
Yet now that she has stood thus fifty years 
The sole spectator in that gallery, 
You think to bring this warm real struggling 

love 
In to her of a sudden, and suppose 
She'll keep her state untroubled ? Here's 

the truth : 
She'll apprehend truth's value at a glance, 
Prefer it to the pictured loyalty ? 
You only have to say, " So men are made. 
For this they act ; the thing has many names. 
But this the right one : and now. Queen, be 

just!" 
Your life slips back ; you lose her at the word : 
You do not even for amends gain me. 
He will not understand ! oh, Norbert, Nor- 

bert, 23 



Robert Browning 

Do you not understand ? 

Nor. The Queen's the Queen : 

I am myself — no picture, but alive 
In every nerve and every muscle, here 
At the palace-window o'er the people's street, 
As she in the gallery where the pictures glow : 
The good of life is precious to us both. 
She can not love ; what do I want with rule ? 
When first I saw your face a year ago 
I knew my life's good, my soul heard one 

voice — 
" The woman yonder, there's no use of life 
But just to obtain her ! heap earth's woes in 

one 
And bear them — make a pile of all earth's 

joys 
And spurn them, as they help or help not this ; 
Only, obtain her ! " — How was it to be ? 
I found you were the cousin of the Queen ; 

24 



Robert Browning 

I must then serve the Queen to get to you. 
No other way. Suppose there had been one, 
And I, by saying prayers to some white star 
With promise of my body and my soul, 
Might gain you, — should I pray the star 

or no? 
Instead there was the Queen to serve ! I 

served, 
Helped, did what other servants failed to do. 
Neither she sought nor I declared my end. 
Her good is hers, my recompense be mine, 
I therefore name you as that recompense. 
She dreamed that such a thing could never be ? 
Let her wake now. She thinks there was 

more cause 
In love of power, high fame, pure loyalty ? 
Perhaps she fancies men wear out their lives 
Chasing such shades. Then I've a fancy, 

too; 

25 



Robert Browning 

I worked because I want you with my soul : 
I therefore ask your hand. Let it be now ! 
Con. Had I not loved you from the very 
first, 
Were I not yours, could we not steal out thus 
So wickedly, so wildly, and so well. 
You might become impatient. What's con- 
ceived 
Of us without here, by the folks within ? 
Where are you now ? immersed in cares of 

state — 
Where am I now ? — intent on festal robes — 
We two, embracing under death's spread 

hand ! 
What was this thought for, what that scruple 

of yours 
Which broke the council up ? — to bring about 
One minute's meeting in the corridor ! 
And then the sudden sleights, strange secre- 
cies, 26 



Robert Browning 

Complots inscrutable, deep telegraphs, 
Long-planned chance meetings, hazards of a 

look, 
" Does she know ? does she not know ? saved 

or lost?" 
A year of this compression's ecstasy 
All goes for nothing ! you would give this up 
For the old way, the open way, the world's, 
His way who beats, and his who sells his 

wife ! 
What tempts you? — their notorious happi- 
ness. 
Makes you ashamed of ours? The best 

you'll gain 
Willbe— the Queen grants all that you require, 
Concedes the cousin, rids herself of you 
And me at once, and gives us ample leave 
To live like our five hundred happy friends. 
The world will show us with officious hand 

27 



Robert Browning 

Our chamber entry, and stand sentinel, 
Where we so oft have stolen across its 

traps ! 
Get the world's warrant, ring the falcon's 

feet, 
And make it duty to be bold and swift. 
Which long ago was nature. Have it so ! 
We never hawked by rights till flung from 

fist? 
Oh, the man's thought ; no woman's such a 

fool. 

Nor. Yes, the man's thought and my 
thought, which is more — 
One made to love you, let the world take 

note ! 
Have I done worthy work ? be love's the 

praise, 
Tho' hampered by restrictions, barred 

against 

28 



Robert Browning 

By set forms, blinded by forced secrecies ! 
Set free my love, and see what love can do 
Shown in my life — what work will spring 

from that ! 
The world is used to have its business done 
On other grounds, find great effects produced 
For power's sake, fame's sake, motives in 

men's mouth ! 
So, good : but let my low ground shame 

their high ! 
Truth is the strong thing. Let man's life be 

true! 
And love's the truth of mine. Time prove 

the rest ! 
I choose to wear you stamped all over me, 
Your name upon my forehead and my breast. 
You, from the sword's blade to the ribbon's 

edge. 
That men may see, all over, you in me — 

29 



Robert Browning 

That pale loves may die out of their pretence 
In face of mine, shames thrown on love fall 

off. 
Permit this, Constance ! Love has been so 

long 
Subdued in me, eating me through and 

through, 
That now 't is all of me and must have way. 
Think of my work, that chaos of intrigues, 
Those hopes and fears, surprises and delays. 
That long endeavour, earnest, patient, slow, 
Trembling at last to its assured result — 
Then think of this revulsion ! I resume 
Life after death, (it is no less than life, 
After such long unlovely labouring days) 
And liberate to beauty life's great need 
O' the beautiful, which, while it prompted 

work, 
Suppressed itself erewhile. This eve's the 

time, 30 



Robert Browning 

This eve intense with yon first trembling star 
We seem to pant and reach ; scarce aught 

between 
The earth that rises and the heaven that 

bends ; 
All nature self-abandoned, every tree 
Flung as it will, pursuing its own thoughts 
And fixed so, every flower and every weed, 
No pride, no shame, no victory, no defeat ; 
All under God, each measured by itself 
These statues round us stand abrupt, distinct. 
The strong in strength, the weak in weak- 
ness fixed, 
The Muse for ever wedded to her lyre, 
Nymph to her fawn, and Silence to her rose: 
See God's approval on His universe ! 
Let us do so — aspire to live as these 
In harmony with truth, ourselves being true ! 
Take the first way, and let the second come ! 

31 



Robert Browning 

My first is to possess myself of you ; 
The music sets the march-step — forward, 

then! 
And there's the Queen, I go to claim you of, 
The world to witness, wonder and applaud. 
Our flower of life breaks open. No delay ! 

Con. And so shall we be ruined, both of us. 
Norbert, I know her to the skin and bone : 
You do not know her, were not born to it. 
To feel what she can see or cannot see. 
Love, she is generous, — ay, despite your 

smile. 
Generous as you are : for, in that thin frame 
Pain-twisted, puctured through and through 

with cares. 
There lived a lavish soul until it starved. 
Debarred of healthy food. Look to the soul — 
Pity that, stoop to that, ere you begin 
(The true man's- way) on justice and your 

rights, 32 



Robert Browning 

Exactions and acquittance of the past ! 
Begin so — see what justice she will deal ! 
We women hate a debt as men a gift. 
Suppose her some poor keeper of a school 
Whose business is to sit thro' summer 

months 
And dole out children leave to go and play, 
Herself superior to such lightness — she 
In the arm-chair's state and psedagogic 

pomp,. 
To the life, the laughter, sun and youth out- 
side : 
We wonder such a face looks black on us ? 
I do not bid you wake her tenderness, 
(That were vain, truly — none is left to wake) 
But, let her think her justice is engaged 
To take the shape of tenderness, and mark 
If she'll not coldly pay its warmest debt ! 
Does she love me, I ask you ? not a whit : 

33 



Robert Browning 

Yet, thinking that her justice was engaged 
To help a kinswoman, she took me up — 
Did more on that bare ground than other 

loves 
Would do on greater argument. For me, 
I have no equivalent of such cold kind 
To pay her with, but love alone to give 
If I give anything. I give her love : 
I feel I ought to help her, and I will. 
So, for her sake, as yours, I tell you twice 
That women hate a debt as men a gift. 
If I were you, I could obtain this grace — 
Could lay the whole I did to love's account 
Nor yet be very false as courtiers go — 
Declaring my success was recompense ; 
It would be so, in fact : what were it else ? 
And then, once loose her generosity, — 
Oh, how I see it ! — then, were I but you 
To turn it, let it seem to move itself, 

34 



Robert Browning 

And make it offer what I really take, 
Accepting just, in the poor cousin's hand, 
Her value as the next thing to the Queen's — 
Since none love Queens directly, none dare 

that, 
And a thing's shadow or a name's mere echo 
Suffices those who miss the name and thing ! 
You pick up just a ribbon she has worn. 
To keep in proof how near her breath you 

came. 
Say, I 'm so near I seem a piece of her — 
Ask for me that way — (oh, you understand) 
You 'd find the same gift yielded with a grace. 
Which, if you make the least show to 

extort . . . 
— ^You '11 see! and when you have ruined 

both of us. 
Dissertate on the Queen's ingratitude! 

Nor. Then, if I turn it that way, you con- 
sent ? 35 



Robert Browning 

'T is not my way ; I have more hope in truth : 
Still, if you won't have truth — why, this 

indeed, 
Were scarcely false, as I 'd express the sense. 
Will you remain here ? 

Con. O best heart of mine. 

How I have loved you! then, you take my 

way? 
Are mine as you have been her minister, 
Work out my thought, give it effect for me, 
Paint plain my poor conceit and make it 

serve ? 
I owe that withered woman everything — 
Life, fortune, you, remember! Take my 

part — 
Help me to pay her ! Stand upon your rights ? 
You, with my rose, my hands, my heart on 

you? 
Your rights are mine — you have no rights 

but mine. 36 



Robert Browning 

Nor. Remain here- How you know me ! 

Con. Ah, but still 

\He breaks from her : she remains. Dance- 
music from within. 

Enter the ^een. 

^een. Constance ? She is here, as he said. 
Speak quick ! Is it so ? Is it true or false ? 
One word ! 

Con. True, 

^een. Mercifullest Mother, thanks to thee ! 

Con. Madam ? 

^ueen. I love you, Constance, from my soul. 
Now say once more, with any words you will, 
'T is true, all true, as true as that I speak. 

Con. Why should you doubt it ? 

^een. Ah, why doubt ? why doubt? 

Dear, make me see it ! Do you see it so ? 
None see themselves; another sees them 

best. 

37 



Robert Browning 

You say ''why doubt it?" — ^you see him and 

me. 
It is because the Mother has such grace 
That if we had but faith — wherein we fail — 
Whatever we yearn for would be granted us; 
Yet still we let our whims prescribe despair. 
Our fancies thwart and cramp our will and 

power, 
And while accepting life, abjure its use. 
Constance, I had abjured the hope of love 
And being loved, as truly as yon palm 
The hope of seeing Egypt from that plot. 
Con. Heaven! 

^een. But it was so, Constance, it was so ! 
Men say — or do men say it ? fancies say — 
'' Stop here, your life is set, you are grown 

old. 
Too late — no love for you, too late for love — 
Leave love to girls. Be queen: let Con- 
stance love!" 38 



Robert Browning 

One takes the hint — half meets it like a child, 
Ashamed at any feelings that oppose. 
*^ Oh love, true, never think of love again ! 
I am a queen: I rule, not love forsooth/' 
So it goes on ; so a face grows like this, 
Hair like this hair, poor arms as lean as these, 
Till, — nay, it does not end so, I thank God ! 

Con. I can not understand 

^een. The happier you ! 

Constance, I know not how it is with men: 
For women (I am a woman now like you) 
There is no good of life but love — but love ! 
What else looks good, is some shade flung 

from love ; 

Love gilds it, gives it worth. Be warned by 
me. 

Never you cheat yourself one instant ! Love, 
Give love, ask only love, and leave the rest ! 
O Constance, how I love you ! 
Con. I love you. 

39 



Robert Browning 

^een. I do believe that all is come thro' 

you. 
I took you to my heart to keep it warm 
When the last chance of love seemed dead 

in me; 
I thought your -fresh youth warmed my 

withered heart. 
Oh, I am very old now, am I not ? 
Not so! it is true and it shall be true ! 

Con. Tell it me: letme judge if true or false. 

^ueen. Ah, but I fear you! you will look 
at me 
And say, ''she 's old, she 's grown unlovely 

quite 
Who ne'er was beauteous : men want beauty 

still." 
Well, so I feared — the curse ! so I felt sure. 

Con. Be calm. And now you feel not sure, 
you say ? 

40 



Robert Browning 

^een. Constance, he came, — the coming 
was not strange — 
Do not I stand and see men come and go ? 
I turned a half-look from my pedestal 
Where I grow marble — " one young man the 

more! 
He will love some one ; that is naught to me : 
What would he with my marble stateli- 

ness? " 
Yet this seemed somewhat worse than here- 
tofore ; 
The man more gracious, youthful, like a god. 
And I still older, with less flesh to change — 
We two those dear extremes that long to 

touch. 
It seemed still harder when he first began 
To labor at those state-affairs, absorbed 
The old way for the old end — interest. 
Oh, to live with a thousand beating hearts 

41 



Robert Browning 

Around you, swift eyes, serviceable hands, 
Professing they've no care but for your cause, 
Thought but to help you, love but for your- 
self. 
And you the marble statue all the time 
They praise and point at as preferred to life. 
Yet leave for the first breathing woman's 

smile. 
First dancer's, gipsy's or street baladine's ! 
Why, how I have ground my teeth to hear 

men's speech 
Stifled for fear it should alarm my ear. 
Their gait subdued lest step should startle 

me. 
Their eyes declined, such queendom to 

respect. 
Their hands alert, such treasure to preserve. 
While not a man of them broke rank and 
spoke, 

42 



Robert Browning 

Wrote me a vulgar letter all of love, 

Or caught my hand and pressed it like a 

hand ! 
There have been moments, if the sentinel 
Lowering his halbert to salute the queen. 
Had flung it brutally and clasped my knees, 
I would have stooped and kissed him with 

my soul. 

Con. Who could have comprehended ? 

^een. Ay, who — who ? 

Why, no one, Constance, but this one who 

did. 
Not they, not you, not I. Even now perhaps 
It comes too late — would you but tell the 

truth. 

Con. I wait to tell it. 

^een. Well, you see, he came. 

Outfaced the others, did a work this year 
Exceeds in value all was ever done, 

43 



Robert Browning 

You know — it is not I who say it — all 
Say it. And so (a second pang and worse) 
I grew aware not only of what he did. 
But why so wondrously. Oh, never work 
Like his was done for work's ignoble sake- 
Souls need a finer aim to light and lure ! 
I felt, I saw, he loved — loved somebody. 
And Constance, my dear Constance, do you 

know, 
I did believe this while 't was you he loved. 

Con. Moy madam ? 

^een. It did seem to me, your face 

Met him where'er he looked : and whom but 

you 
Was such a man to love ? It seemed to me, 
You saw he loved you, and approved his love, 
And both of you were in intelligence. 
You could not loiter in that garden, step 
Into this balcony, but I straight was stung 

44 



Robert Browning 

And forced to understand. It seemed so true, 
So right, so beautiful, so like you both. 
That all this work should have been done by 

him 
Not for the vulgar hope of recompense, 
But that at last — suppose, some night like 

this— 
Borne on to claim his due reward of me. 
He might say, '' Give her hand and pay me 

so. 
And I (O Constance, you shall love me now !) 
I thought, surmounting all the bitterness, 
— ^^ And he shall have it. I will make her 

blest, 
My flower of youth, my woman's self that 

was. 
My happiest woman's self that might have 

been! 
These two shall have their joy and leave me 

here." 
Yes — yes ! 45 



Robert Browning 

Con. Thanks! 

^een. And the word was on my lips 

When he burst in upon me. I looked to hear 
A mere calm statement of his just desire 
For payment of his labour. When — O 

heaven, 
How can I tell you ? lightning on my eyes 
And thunder in my ears proved that first word 
Which told 't was love of me, of me, did all — 
He loved me — from the first step to the last, 
Loved me ! 

Con. You hardly saw, scarce heard him 
speak 
Of love : what if you should mistake ? 

^ueen. No, no — 

No mistake ! Ha, there shall be no mistake ! 
He had not dared to hint the love he felt — 
You were my reflex — (how I understood !) 
He said you were the ribbon I had worn, 

46 



Robert Browning 

He kissed my hand, he looked into my eyes, 
And love, love came at end of every phrase. 
Love is begun; this much is come to pass: 
The rest is easy. Constance, I am yours ! 
I will learn, I will place my life on you. 
Teach me but how to keep what I have won ! 
Am I so old ? This hair was early gray ; 
But joy ere now has brought hair brown 

again, 
And joy will bring the cheek's red back, I feel. 
I could sing once, too ; that was in my youth. 
Still, when men paint me, they declare me 

• . . yes, 
Beautiful — for the last French painter did ! 
I know they flatter somewhat; you are frank — 
I trust you. How I loved you from the first ! 
Some queens would hardly seek a cousin out 
And set her by their side to take the eye : 
I must have felt that good would come from 

you- 47 



Robert Browning 

I am not generous — like him — like you ! 

But he is not your lover after all : 

It was not you he looked at. Saw you him ? 

You had not been mistaking words or looks ? 

He said you were the reflex of myself. 

And yet he is not such a paragon 

To you, to younger women who may choose 

Among a thousand Norberts. Speak the 

truth ! 
You know you never named his name to me — 
You know, I can not give him up — ah God, 
Not up now, even to you ! 

Con. Then calm yourself. 

^een. See, I am old — look here, you happy 
girl! 
I will not play the fool, deceive — ah whom ? 
'T is all gone: put your cheek beside my 

cheek. 
And what a contrast does the moon behold ! 

48 



Robert Browning 

But then I set my life upon one chance, 
The last chance and the best — am I not left, 
My soul, myself ? All women love great men, 
If young or old ; it is in all the tales : 
Young beauties love old poets who can love — 
Why should not he, the poems in my soul. 
The passionate faith, the pride of sacrifice. 
Life-long, death-long ? I throw them at his 

feet. 
Who cares to see the fountain's very shape. 
And whether it be a Triton's or a Nymph's 
That pours the foam, makes rainbows all 

around ? 
You could not praise indeed the empty conch ; 
But I '11 pour floods of love and hide myself. 
How I will love him! Can not men love 

love ? 
Who was a queen and loved a poet once. 
Humpbacked, a dwarf? ah, women can do 

that ! 49 



Robert Browning 

Well, but men too ; at least, they tell you so. 
They love so many women in their youth, 
And even in age they all love whom they 

please ; 
And yet the best of them confide to friends 
That 't is not beauty makes the lasting love — 
They spend a day with such and tire the 

next : 
They like soul, — well then, they like phan- 
tasy, 
Novelty even. Lrct us confess the truth, 
Horrible tho' it be, that prejudice. 
Prescription . . . curses ! they will love 

a queen 
They will, they do : and will not, does not — 

he? 

Con. How can he ? You are wedded ; 't is 
a name, 
We know, but still a bond. Your rank 

remains, 50 



Robert Browning 

His rank remains. How can he, nobly souled, 
As you believe and I incline to think, 
Aspire to be your favourite, shame and all ? 

^ueen. Hear her ! There, there now — could 
she love like me ? 
What did I say of smooth-cheeked youth 

and grace ? 
See all it does or could do ! so, youth loves ! 
Oh, tell him, Constance, you could never do 
What I will — you, it was not born in ! I 
Will drive these difficulties far and fast 
As yonder mists curdling before the moon. 
I '11 use my light too, gloriously retrieve 
My youth from its enforced calamity. 
Dissolve that hateful marriage, and be his. 
His own in the eyes alike of God and man. 

Con. You will do — dare do . . . pause 
on what you say ! 

^een. Hear her ! I thank you, sweet, for 
that surprise. 51 



Robert Browning 

You have the fair face : for the soul, see mine ! 
I have the strong soul: let me teach you, 

here. 
I think I have borne enough and long enough. 
And patiently enough, the world remarks. 
To have my own way now, unblamed by all. 
It does so happen (I rejoice for it) 
This most unhoped-for issue cuts the knot. 
There 's not a better way of settling claims 
Than this : God sends the accident express : 
And were it for my subjects' good, no more, 
'T were best thus ordered. I am thankful 

now, 
Mute, passive, acquiescent. I receive. 
And bless God simply, or should almost fear 
To walk so smoothly to my ends at last. 
Why, how I baffle obstacles, spurn fate ! 
How strong I am! Could Norbert see me 

now! 

52 



Robert Browning 

Con. Let me consider ! It is all too strange. 

^een. You, Constance, learn of me; do 
you, like me ! 
You are young, beautiful : my own, best girl, 
You will have many lovers, and love one — 
Light hair, not hair like Norbert's to suit 

yours. 
Taller than he is, since yourself are tall. 
Love him, like me ! Give all away to him ; 
Think never of yourself; throw by your 

pride, 
Hope, fear, — your own good as you saw it 

once. 
And love him simply for his very self. 
Remember, I (and what am I to you ?) 
Would give up all for one, leave throne, 

lose life. 
Do all but just unlove him ! He loves me. 

Con. He shall. 

53 



Robert Browning 

^een. You, step inside my inmost heart! 
Give me your own heart: let us have one 

heart! 
I '11 come to you for counsel ; *' this he says, 
This he does ; what should this amount to, 

pray? 
Beseech you, change it into current coin ! 
Is that worth kisses? Shall I please him 

there?" 
And then we '11 speak in turn of you — what 

else? 
Your love, according to your beauty's worth. 
For you shall have some noble love, all gold : 
Whom choose you ? we will get him at your 

choice. 
— Constance, I leave you. Just a minute 

since, 
I felt as I must die or be alone 
Breathing my soul into an ear like yours : 

54 



Robert Browning 

Now, I would face the world with my new 

life, 
Wear my new crown. I '11 walk around the 

rooms. 
And then come back and tell you how it feels. 
How soon a smile of God can change the 

world ! 
How we are made for happiness — how work 
Grows play, adversity a winning fight ! 
True I have lost so many years : what then ? 
Many remain : God has been very good. 
You, stay here ! 'T is as different from 

dreams. 
From the mind's cold calm estimate of bliss, 
As these stone statues from the flesh and 

blood. 
The comfort thou hast caused mankind, God's 

moon ! 

[She goes out^ leaving Constance. Dance-music 
from within. 55 



Robert Browning 

Norbert enters. 

Nor. Well ? we have but one minute and 
one word ! 

Con. I am yours, Norbert ! 

Nor. Yes, mine. 

Con. Not till now ! 

You were mine. Now I give myself to you. 

Nor. Constance? 

Con. Your own ! I know the thriftier way 
Of giving — haply, 't is the wiser way 
Meaning to give a treasure, I might dole 
Coin after coin out (each, as that were all, 
With a new largess still at each despair) 
And force you keep in sight the deed, pre- 
serve 
Exhaustless till the end my part and yours. 
My giving and your taking; both our joys 
Dying together. Is it the wiser way ? 
I choose the simpler ; I give all at once. 

56 



Robert Browning 

Know what you have to trust to, trade upon ! 
Use it, abuse it, — anything but think 
Hereafter, '' Had I known she loved me so, 
And what my means, I might have thriven 

with it/' 
This is your means. I give you all myself. 

Nor. I take you and thank God, 

Con. Look on thro' years ! 

We can not kiss, a second day like this ; 
Else were this earth no earth. 

Nor. With this day's heat 

We shall go on thro' years of cold. 

Con. So best ! 

— I try to see those years — I think I see. 
You walk quick and new warmth comes; 

you look back 
And lay all to the first glow — not sit down 
For ever brooding on a day like this 
While seeing embers whiten and love die. 

57 



Robert Browning 

Yes, love lives best in its effect; and mine, 
Full in its own life, yearns to live in yours. 

Nor. Just so. I take and know you all at 
once. 
Your soul is disengaged so easily, 
Your face is there, I know you ; give me time, 
Let me be proud and think you shall know 

me. 
My soul is slower : in a life I roll 
The minute out whereto you condense 

yours — 
The whole slow circle round you I must 

move. 
To be just you. I look to a long life 
To decompose this minute, prove its worth. 
'T is the sparks' long succession one by one 
Shall show you, in the end, what fire was 

crammed 
In that mere stone you struck: how could 

you know, 58 



Robert Browning 

If it lay ever unproved in your sight, 

As now my heart lies? your own warmth 

would hide 
Its coldness, were it cold. 

Con. But how prove, how ? 

Nor. Prove in my life, you ask ? 

Con. Quick, Norbert — how? 

Nor. That 's easy told. I count life just a 
stuff 
To try the soul's strength on, educe the man. 
Who keeps one end in view makes all things 

serve. 
As with the body — he who hurls a lance 
Or heaps up stone on stone, shows strength 

alike. 
So must I seize and task all means to prove 
And show this soul of mine, you crown as 

yours. 
And justify us both. 

59 



Robert Browning 

Con. Could you write books, 

Paint pictures ! One sits down in poverty 
And writes or paints, with pity for the rich. 

Nor. And loves one's painting, and one's 
writing, then. 
And not one's mistress ! All is best, believe. 
And we best as no other than we are. 
We live, and they experiment on life^ 
Those poets, painters, all who stand aloof 
To overlook the farther. Let us be 
The thing they look at ! I might take your 

face 
And write of it and paint it — to what end ? 
For whom ? what pale dictatress in the air 
Feeds, smiling sadly, her fine ghost-like form 
With earth's real blood and breath, the 

beauteous life 
She makes despised for ever ? You are mine. 
Made for me, not for others in the world, 

60 



Robert Browning 

Nor yet for that which I should call my art, 
The cold calm power to see how fair you 

look. 
I come to you ; I leave you not, to write 
Or paint. You are, I am : let Rubens there 
Paint us ! 

Con. So, best ! 

Nor. I understand your soul. 

You live, and rightly sympathize with life. 
With action, power, success. This way is 

straight ; 
And time were short beside, to let me change 
The craft my childhood learnt: my craft 

shall serve. 
Men set me here to subjugate, enclose. 
Manure their barren lives, and force thence 

fruit 
First for themselves, and afterward for me 
In the due tithe ; the task of some one soul, 

6i 



Robert Browning 

Thro' ways of work appointed by the world. 
I am not bid create — men see no star 
Transfiguring my brow to warrant that — 
But find and bind and bring to bear their 

wills. 
So I began : to-night sees how I end. 
What if it see, too, power's first outbreak 

here 
Amid the warmth, surprise and sympathy, 
And instincts of the heart that teach the head ? 
What if the people have discerned at length 
The dawn of the next nature, novel brain 
Whose will they venture in the place of 

theirs, 
Whose work, they trust, shall find them as 

novel ways 
To untried heights which yet he only sees ? 
I felt it when you kissed me. See this queen, 
This people — in our phrase, this mass of men, 

62 



Robert Browning 

See how the mass lies passive to my hand 
Now that my hand is plastic, with you by 
To make the muscles iron ! Oh, an end 
Shall crown this issue as this crowns the 

first ! 
My will be on this people ! then, the strain, 
The grappling of the potter with his clay, 
The long uncertain struggle, — the success 
And consummation of the spirit-work. 
Some vase shaped to the curl of the god's lip, 
While rounded fair for human sense to see 
The Graces in a dance men recognize 
With turbulent applause and laughs of heart ! 
So triumph ever shall renew itself; 
Ever shall end in efforts higher yet, 
Ever begin . . , 

Con. I ever helping? 

Nor. Thus ! 

[As he embraces her^ the ^een enters. 
63 



Robert Browning 

Con. Hist, madam ! So have I performed 
my part. 
You see your gratitude's true decency, 
Norbert? A little slow in seeing it ! 
Begin, to end the sooner ! What 's a kiss ? 
Nor. Constance? 

Con. Why, must I teach it you again ? 

You want a witness to your dulness, sir ? 
What was I saying these ten minutes long ? 
Then I repeat — when some young handsome 

man 
Like you has acted out a part like yours. 
Is pleased to fall in love with one beyond. 
So very far beyond him, as he says — 
So hopelessly in love that but to speak 
Would prove him mad, — he thinks judi- 
ciously, 
And makes some insignificant good soul, 
Like me, his friend, adviser, confidant, 

64 



Robert Browning 

And very stalking-horse to cover him 
In following after what he dares not face — 
When his end's gained — (sir, do you under- 
stand ?) 
When she, he dares not face, has loved him 

first, 
— May I not say so, madam? — tops his hope. 
And overpasses so his wildest dream, 
With glad consent of all, and most of her. 
The confidant, who brought the same about — 
Why, in the moment when such joy ex- 
plodes, 
I do hold that the merest gentleman 
Will not start rudely from the stalking horse. 
Dismiss it with a '' There, enough of you ! " 
Forget it, show his back unmannerly ; 
But like a liberal heart will rather turn 
And say, *' A tingling time of hope was ours ; 
Betwixt the fears and falterings, we two lived 

65 



Robert Browning 

A chanceful time in waiting for the prize ! 
The confidant, the Constance, served not ill. 
And tho' I shall forget her in due time, 
Her use being answered now, as reason bids, 
Nay as herself bids from her heart of hearts, — 
Still, she has rights, the first thanks go to her, 
The first good praise goes to the prosperous 

tool. 
And the first — which is the last — rewarding 

kiss." 

Nor. Constance, it is a dream — ah, see, you 
smile ! 

Con. So, now his part being properly per- 
formed, 
Madam, I turn to you and finish mine 
As duly : I do justice in my turn. 
Yes, madam, he has loved you — long and 

well; 
He could not hope to tell you so — 't was I 

66 



Robert Browning 

Who served to prove your soul accessible. 
I led his thoughts on, drew them to their 

place 
When they had wandered else into despair, 
And kept love constant toward its natural 

aim. 
Enough, my part is played ; you stoop half- 
way 
And meet us royally and spare our fears : 
'T is like yourself. He thanks you, so do I. 
Take him — with my full heart ! my work is 

praised 
By what comes of it. Be you happy, both ! 
Yourself — the only one on earth who can — 
Do all for him, much more than a mere heart 
Which tho' warm is not useful in its warmth 
As the silk vesture of a queen ! fold that 
Around him gently, tenderly. For him — 
For him, — he knows his own part ! 

67 



Robert Browning 

Nor. Have you done ? 

I take the jest at last. Should I speak now? 
Was yours the wager, Constance, foolish 

child, 
Or did you but accept it ? Well — at least 
You lose by it. 

Con. Nay, madam, 't is your turn ! 

Restrain him still from speech a little more. 
And make him happier as more confident ! 
Pity him, madam, he is timid yet ! 
Mark, Norbert ! Do not shrink now ! Here 

I yield 
My whole right in you to the queen, observe ! 
With her go put in practice the great schemes 
You teem with, follow the career else closed — 
Be all you can not be except by her ! 
Behold her! — Madam, say for pity's sake 
Anything — frankly say you love him ! Else 
He '11 not believe it: there 's more earnest in 

68 



Robert Browning 

His fear than you conceive: I know the man ! 

Nor. I know the woman somewhat, and 
confess 
I thought she had jested better: she begins 
To overcharge her part, I gravely wait 
Your pleasure, madam : where is my reward ? 

^een. Norbert, this wild girl (whom I 
recognize 
Scarce more than you do, in her fancy-fit, 
Eccentric speech and variable mirth. 
Not very wise, perhaps, and somewhat bold, 
Yet suitable, the whole night's work being 

strange) 
— May still be right : I may do well to speak 
And make authentic what appears a dream 
To even myself. For, what she says, is true. 
Yes, Norbert — what you spoke just now of 

love. 
Devotion, stirred no novel sense in me, 

69 



Robert Browning 

But justified a warmth felt long before. 
Yes, from the first — I loved you, I shall say : 
Strange! but I do grow stronger, now 't is 

said. 
Your courage helps mine: you did well to 

speak 
To-night, the night that crowns your twelve- 
month's toil: 
But still I had not waited to discern 
Your heart so long, believe me ! From the 

first 
The source of so much zeal was almost plain. 
In absence even of your own words just now 
Which hazarded the truth. 'T is very 

strange, 
But takes a happy ending — in your love 
Which mine meets : be it so ! as you chose 

me, 
So I choose you. 

70 



Robert Browning 

Nor. And worthily you choose- 

I will not be unworthy your esteem, 
No, madam. I do love you ; I will meet 
Your nature, now I know it. This was well. 
I see, — you dare and you are justified : 
But none had ventured such experiment, 
Less versed than you in nobleness of heart, 
Less confident of finding such in me. 
I joy that thus you test me ere you grant 
The dearest richest beauteousest and best 
Of women to my arms : 't is like yourself. 
So — back again into my part's set words — 
Devotion to the uttermost is yours. 
But no, you can not, madam, even you. 
Create in me the love our Constance does. 
Or — something truer to the tragic phrase — 
Not yon magnolia-bell superb with scent 
Invites a certain insect — that 's myself — 
But the small eye-flower nearer to the 

ground. 71 



Robert Browning 

I take this lady. 

Con. Stay — not hers, the trap — 

Stay, Norbert — that mistake were worst of 

all! 
He is too cunning, madam ! It was I, 
I Norbert, who . . . 

Nor. You, was it, Constance ? Then, 

But for the grace of this divinest hour 
Which gives me you, I might not pardon 

here ! 
I am the Queen's ; she only knows my brain : 
She may experiment upon my heart 
And I instruct her too by the result. 
But you, Sweet, you who know me, who so 

long 
Have told my heart-beats over, held my life 
In those white hands of yours, — it is not well ! 

Con. Tush ! I have said it, did I not say it 
all? 

72 



i 



Robert Browning 

The life, for her — the heart-beats, for her 

sake! 

Nor. Enough! my cheek grows red, I think. 
Your test ? 
There's not the meanest woman in the 

world. 
Not she I least could love in all the world. 
Whom, did she love me, had love proved 

itself, 
I dare insult as you insult me now. 
Constance, I could say, if it must be said, 
'' Take back the soul you offer, I keep mine ! " 
But — " Take the soul still quivering on your 

hand, 
The soul so offered, which I can not use. 
And, please you, give it to some playful 

friend. 
For — what 's the trifle he requites me with ?" 
— I, tempt a woman, to amuse a man, 

73 



Robert Browning 

That two may mock her heart if it succumb ? 
No: fearing God and standing 'neath His 

heaven, 
I would not dare insult a woman so, 
Were she the meanest woman in the world, 
And he, I cared to please, ten emperors! 

Con. Norbert! 

Nor. I love once as I live but once. 

What case is this to think or talk about ? 
I love you. Would it mend the case at all 
If such a step as this killed love in me? 
Your part were done : account to God for it ! 
But mine — could murdered love get up again, 
And kneel to whom you please to designate, 
And make you mirth ? It is too horrible. 
You did not know this, Constance ? now you 

know 
That body and soul have each one life, but 

one; 

74 



Robert Browning 

And here's my love, here, living, at your feet. 

Con. See the Queen! Norbert — this one 
more last word — 
If thus you have taken jest for earnest — thus 
Loved me in earnest. . • . 

Nor. Ah, no jest holds here ! 

Where is the laughter in which jests break up, 
And what this horror that grows palpable ? 
Madam — why grasp you thus the balcony? 
Have I done ill? Have I not spoken truth? 
How could I other? Was it not your test. 
To try me, what my love for Constance 

meant? 
Madam, your royal soul itself approves. 
The first, that I should choose thus ! so one 

takes 
A beggar, — -asks him, what would buy his 

child? 
And then approves the expected laugh of 

scorn 75 



Robert Browning 

Returned as something noble from the rags. 
Speak, Constance, I 'm the beggar! Ha, 

what 's this? 
You two glare each at each like panthers 

now. 
Constance, the world fades : only you stand 

there ! 
You did not, in to-night's wild whirl of things, 
Sell me — your soul of souls, for any price ? 
No — no — 't is easy to believe in you ! 
Was it your love's mad trial to o'ertop 
Mine by this vain self-sacrifice? well, still — 
Tho' I might curse, I love you. I am love 
And can not change : love's self is at your 

feet. 

\The ^een goes out. 

Con. Feel my heart ; let it die against your 
own! 

Nor. Against my own. Explain not; let 
this be ! 76 



Robert Browning 

This is life's height. 

Con. Yours, yours, yours ! 

Nor. You and I — 

Why care by what meanders we are here 
I' the centre of the labyrinth? Men have 

died 
Trying to find this place, which we have 

found. 

Con. Found, found ! 

Nor. Sweet, never fear what she can do ! 
We are past harm now. 

Con. On the breast of God. 

I thought of men — as if you were a man. 
Tempting him with a crown ! 

Nor. This must end here : 

It is too perfect. 

Con. There 's the music stopped. 

What measured heavy tread? It is one 

blaze 

77 



Robert Browning 

About me and within me. 

Nor. Oh, some death 

Will run its sudden finger round this spark 
And sever us from the rest ! 

Con. And so do welL 

Now the doors open. 

Nor. 'T is the guard comes. 

Con. Kiss ! 



78 



Robert Browning 




E were two lovers ; let me 

lie by her, 
My tomb beside her tomb. 

On hers inscribe — 
"I loved him ; but my rea- 
son bade prefer 
J Duty to love, reject the 
tempter's bribe 
Of rose and lily when each path diverged. 
And either I must pace to life's far end 
As love should lead me, or, as duty urged. 
Plod the worn causeway arm in arm with 

friend. 
So, truth turned falsehood: 'How I loath 

a flower. 
How prize the pavement ! ' still caressed his 

ear — 
The deafish friend's — thro' life's day, hour 
by hour, 

79 



Robert Browning 

As he laughed (coughing) 'Ay, it would 

appear ! ' 
But deep within my heart of hearts there hid 
Ever the confidence, amends for all, 
That heaven repairs what wrong earth's 

journey did, 
When love from life-long exile comes at call. 
Duty and love, one broad way, were the 

best — 
Who doubts? But one or other was to 

choose. 
I chose the darkling half, and wait the rest 
In that new world where light and darkness 

fuse." 

Inscribe on mine — '' I loved her : love's track 

lay 
O'er sand and pebble, as all travelers know. 
Duty led thro' a smiling country, gay 
With greensward where the rose and lily 

blow. 80 



Robert Browning 

' Our roads are diverse : farewell, love ! ' said 

she: 
' 'T is duty I abide by : homely sward 
And not the rock-rough picturesque for me ! 
Above, where both roads join, I wait reward. 
Be you as constant to the path whereon 
I leave you planted ! ' But man needs must 

move, 
Keep moving — whither, when the star is gone 
Whereby he steps secure nor strays from 

love ? 
No stone but I was tripped by, stumbling- 
block 
But brought me to confusion. Where I fell. 
There I lay flat, if moss disguised the rock : 
Thence, if flint pierced, I rose and cried 

^All 'swell! 
Duty be mine to tread in that high sphere 
Where love from duty ne'er disparts, I trust, 

8i 



Robert Browning 

And two halves make that whole, whereof — 

since here 
One must suffice a man — why, this one 

must!"' 

Inscribe each tomb thus: then, some sage 

acquaint 
The simple — which holds sinner, which holds 

saint ! 



82 



Robert Browning 




mmmmSm 



BAREST, three months 



ago, 
When we loved each other 
so, 

Lived and loved the 

same 
Till an evening came 
When a shaft from the 
Devil's bow 



Pierced to our ingle-glow, 
And the friends were friend and foe ! 

Not from the heart beneath — 

'T was a bubble born of breath, 
Neither sneer nor vaunt, 
Nor reproach nor taunt. 

See a word, how it severeth ! 
Oh, power of life and death 

In the tongue, as the Preacher saith ! 

83 



Robert Browning 

Woman, and will you cast 
For a word, quite off at last 

Me, your own, your You, — 

Since, as truth is true, 
I was You all the happy past — 

Me do you leave aghast 
With the memories We amassed ? 

Love, if you knew the light 
That your soul casts in my sight. 

How I look to you 

For the pure and true. 
And the beauteous and the right, — 

Bear with a moment's spite 
When a mere mote threats the white ! 

— From "^ Lovers' parrel.'' 



84 



Robert Browning 




LL'S over, then : does truth 
sound bitter 
As one at first believes ? 
Hark, 't is the sparrows' 
good-night twitter 
About your cottage eaves! 

And the leaf-buds on the 
vine are woolly, 
I noticed that, to-day ; 
One day more bursts them open fully : 
You know the red turns gray. 

To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest ? 

May I take your hand in mine ? 
Mere friends are we, — well, friends the merest 

Keep much that I resign: 

For each glance of the eye so bright and black, 

Tho' I keep with heart's endeavour, — 
Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops 
back, 
Tho' it stay in my soul for ever ! — 

8s 



Robert Browning 

Yet I will but say what mere friends say, 

Or only a thought stronger ; 
I will hold your hand but as long as all may, 

Or so very little longer ! 



86 



Robert Browning 




LL June I bound the rose 

in sheaves. 
Now, rose by rose, I strip 

the leaves 
And strew them where 

Pauline may pass. 
She will not turn aside? 

Alas! 
Let them lie. Suppose they die ? 
The chance was they might take her eye. 

How many a month I strove to suit 
These stubborn fingers to the lute ! 
To-day I venture all I know. 
She will not hear my music ? So ! 
Break the string; fold music's wing: 
Suppose Pauline had bade me sing ! 

My whole life long I learned to love. 
This hour my utmost art I prove 

87 



Robert Browning 

And speak my passion — heaven or hell ? 
She will not give me heaven? 'T is well ! 
Lose who may — I still can say, 
Those who win heaven, blest are they ! 



88 



Robert Browning 



THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER 




SAID — Then, dearest, 

since 't is so, 
Since now at length my fate 

I know, 
Since nothing all my love 

avails, 
Since all, my life seemed 
meant for, fails. 
Since this was written and needs must be — 
My whole heart rises up to bless 
Your name in pride and thankfulness ! 
Take back the hope you gave, — I claim 
Only a memory of the same, 
— And this beside, if you will not blame. 
Your leave for one more last ride with me. 

My mistress bent that brow of hers ; 
Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs 

89 



Robert Browning 

When pity would be softening through, 
Fixed me a breathing-while or two 

With life or death in the balance : right ! 
The blood replenished me again ; 
My last thought was at least not vain : 
I and my mistress, side by side 
Shall be together, breathe and ride, 
So, one day more am I deified. 

Who knows but the world may end to- 
night ? 

Hush ! if you saw some western cloud 
All billowy-bosomed, over-bowed 
By many benedictions — sun's 
And moon's and evening star's at once — 

And so, you, looking and loving best, 
Conscious grew, your passion drew 
Cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine, too, 
Down on you, near and yet more near, 

90 



Robert Browning 

Till flesh must fade for heaven was here ! — 
Thus leant she and lingered — ^joy and fear! 
Thus lay she a moment on my breast 

Then we began to ride- My soul 
Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll 
Freshening and fluttering in the wind. 
Past hopes already lay behind. 

What need to strive with a life awry ? 
Had I said that, had I done this, 
So might I gain, so might I miss. 
Might she have loved me? just as well 
She might have hated, who can tell ! 
Where had I been now if the worst befell ? 

And here we are riding, she and I. 

Fail I alone, in words and deeds ? 
Why, all men strive and who succeeds ? 
We rode ; it seemed my spirit flew, 

91 



Robert Browning- 
Saw other regions, cities new, 

As the world rushed by on either side. 
I thought, — All labour, yet no less 
Bear up beneath their unsuccess. 
Look at the end of work, contrast 
The petty done, the undone vast, 
This present of theirs with the hopeful past ! 

I hoped she would love me; here we ride. 

What hand and brain went ever paired ? 
What heart alike conceived and dared ? 
What act proved all its thought had been? 
What will but felt the fleshly screen ? 

We ride and I see her bosom heave. 
There' s many a crown for who can reach. 
Ten lines, a statesman's life in each! 
The flag stuck on a heap of bones, 
A soldier's doing! what atones? 
They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones. 

My riding is better; by their leave. 

ga 



Robert Browning 

What does it all mean, poet ? ^Vell, 
Your brains beat into rhythm, you tell 
What we felt only ; you expressed. 
You hold things beautiful the best. 

And pace them in rhyme so, side by side. 
'T is something, nay 't is much : but then, 
Have you yourself what 's best for men? 
Are you — poor, sick, old ere your time — 
Nearer one whit your own sublime 
Than we who never have turned a rhyme ? 

Sing, riding 's a joy ! For me, I ride. 

And you, great sculptor — so, you gave 
A score of years to Art, her slave. 
And that 's your Venus, whence we turn 
To yonder girl that fords the burn ! 

You acquiesce, and shall I repine ? 
What, man of music, you grown gray 
With notes and nothing else to say, 

93 



Robert Browning 

Is this your sole praise from a friend, 
** Greatly his opera's strains intend, 
But in music we know how fashions end ! '* 
I gave my youth ; but we ride, in fine. 

Who knows what 's fit for us? Had fate 
Proposed bliss here should sublimate 
My being — had I signed the bond — 
Still one must lead some life beyond, 

Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried. 
This foot once planted on the goal 
This glory-garland round my soul. 
Could I descry such ? Try and test ! 
I sink back shuddering from the quest. 
Earth being so good, would heaven seem best? 

Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride. 

And yet — she has not spoke so long ! 
What if heaven be that, fair and strong 

94 



Robert Browning 



At life's best, with our eyes upturned 
Whither life's flower is first discerned 

We, fixed so, ever should so abide ? 
What if we still ride on, we two. 
With life for ever old yet new, 
Changed not in kind but in degree. 
The instant made eternity, — 
And heaven just prove that I and she 

Ride, ride together, for ever ride ? 



95 



Robert Browning 




EAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope 
is dead ! 
Sit and watch by her side 
an hour. 
That is her book-shelf, this 
her bed; 
She plucked that piece of 
geranium-flower, 
Beginning to die too, in the glass ; 

Little has yet been changed, I think: 
The shutters are shut, no light may pass 
Save two long rays thro' the hinge's chink. 

Sixteen years old when she died ! 

Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name ; 
It was not her time to love ; beside. 

Her life had many a hope and aim. 
Duties enough and little cares. 

And now was quiet, now astir, 
Till God's hand beckoned unawares, — 

And the sweet white brow is all of hen 

96 



Robert Browning 

Is it too late then, Evelyn Hope ? 

What, your soul was pure and true, 
The good stars met in your horoscope, 

Made you of spirit, fire and dew — 
And just because I was thrice as old 

And our paths in the world diverged so 
wide, 
Each was naught to each, must I be told ? 

We were fellow mortals, naught beside ? 

No, indeed ! for God above 

Is great to grant, as mighty to make. 
And creates the love to reward the love : 

I claim you still, for my own love's sake ! 
Delayed it may be for more lives yet. 

Thro' worlds I shall traverse, not a few : 
Much is to learn, much to forget 

Ere the time be come for taking you. 



97 



Robert Browning 

But the time will come, at last it will, 

When, Evelyn Hope, what meant (I shall 
say) 
In the lower earth, in the years long still, 

That body and soul so pure and gay ? 
Why your hair was amber, I shall divine, 

And your mouth of your own geranium's 
red — 
And what you would do with me, in fine, 

In the new life come in the old one's stead. 

I have lived (I shall say) so much since then, 

Given up myself so many times. 
Gained me the gains of various men. 

Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes ; 
Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope. 

Either I missed or itself missed me : 
And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope ! 

What is the issue ? let us see ! 

9S 



Robert Browning 

I loved you, Evelyn, all the while ! 

My heart seemed full as it could hold ; 
There was place and to spare for the frank 
young smile. 
And the red young mouth, and the hair's 
young gold. 
So hush, — I will give you this leaf to keep : 
See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand ! 
There, that is our secret : go to sleep ! 
You will wake, and remember, and under- 
stand. 

LofC. 



99 



Robert Browning 



JAMES LEE'S WIFE. 

JAMES LEE'S WIFE SPEAKS AT THE WINDOW. 

H, Love, but a day, 

And the world has 
changed ! 
The sun's away, 

And the bird estranged ; 
The wind has dropped, 

And the sky's deranged: 
Summer has stopped. 

Look in my eyes ! 

Wilt thou change too ? 
Should I fear surprise ? 

Shall I find aught new 
In the old and dear. 

In the good and true. 
With the changing year ? 

lOO 




Robert Browning 



Thou art a man, 
But I am thy love. 

For the lake, its swan ; 
For the dell, its dove ; 

And for thee — (oh, haste !) 
Me, to bend above. 

Me, to hold embraced. 



BY THE FIRESIDE. 

Is all our fire of shipwreck wood, 

Oak and pine? 
Oh, for the ills half-understood, 

The dim dead woe 

Long ago 
Befallen this bitter coast of France ! 
Well, poor sailors took their chance: 

I take mine. 

lOI 



Robert Browning 

A ruddy shaft our fire must shoot 

O'er the sea; 
Do sailors eye the casement — mute, 

Drenched and stark, 

From their bark — 
And envy, gnash their teeth for hate 
O' the warm safe house and happy freight 

— Thee and me ? 

God help you, sailors, at your need ! 

Spare the curse ! 
For some ships, safe in port indeed, 

Rot and rust. 

Run to dust. 
All thro' worms i' the wood, which crept, 
Gnawed our hearts out while we slept : 

That is worse. 

Who lived here before us two ? 
Old-world pairs, 

102 



Robert Browning 

Did a woman ever — would I knew ! — 

Watch the man 

With whom began 
Love's voyage, full-sail, — ^now, gnash your 

teeth!) 
When planks start, open hell beneath 

Unawares ? 



IN THE DOORWAY. 

The swallow has set her six young on the 
rail, 
And looks seaward : 
The water 's in stripes like a snake, olive- 
pale 
To the leeward, — 
On the weather-side, black, spotted white 

with the wind. 
"Good fortune departs, and disaster 's be- 
hind," 

103 



Robert Browning 

Hark, the wind with its wants and its infinite 
wail! 

Our fig-tree, that leaned for the saltness, has 

furled 
Her five fingers. 
Each leaf like a hand opened wide to the 

world 
Where there lingers 
No glint of the gold Summer sent for her 

sake: 
How the vines writhe in rows, each impaled 

on its stake ! 
My heart shrivels up and my spirit shrinks 

curled. 

Yet here are we two ; we have love, house 

enough, 
With the field there. 
This house of four rooms, that field red and 

rough, 104 



Robert Browning 

Tho' it yield there, 
For the rabbit that robs, scarce a blade or a 

bent; 
If a magpie alight now, it seems an event; 
And they both will be gone at November's 
rebuff. 

But why must cold spread? but wherefore 

bring change 
To the spirit, 
God meant should mate His with an infinite 

range. 
And inherit 
His power to put life in the darkness and 

cold? 
Oh, live and love worthily, bear and be bold ! 
Whom Summer made friends of, let Winter 

estrange ! 



105 



Robert Browning 



ALONG THE BEACH. 

I will be quiet and talk with you, 
And reason why you are wrong. 

You wanted my love — is that much true ? 

And so I did love, so I do : 
What has come of it all along? 

I took you — how could I otherwise ? 

For a world to me, and more ; 
For all, love greatens and glorifies 
Till God 's a-glow, to the loving eyes, 

In what was mere earth before. 

Yes, earth — yes, mere ignoble earth ^ 

Now do I mis-state, mistake? 
Do I wrong your weakness and call it worth ? 
Expect all harvest, dread no dearth, 

Seal my sense up for your sake ? 

1 06 



Robert Browning 

Oh, Love, Love, no, Love ! not so, indeed ! 

You were just weak earth, I knew : 
With much in you waste, with many a weed 
And plenty of passions run to seed, 

But a little good grain too. 

And such as you were, I took you for mine : 

Did not you find me yours, 
To watch the olive and wait the vine. 
And wonder when rivers of oil and wine 

Would flow, as the Book assures? 

Well, and if none of these good things came. 

What did the failure prove ? 
The man was my whole world, all the same. 
With his flowers to praise or his weeds to 
blame. 

And, either or both, to love. 



107 



Robert Browning 

Yet this turns now to a fault — there ! there ! 

That I do love, watch too long, 
And wait too well, and weary and wear; 
And 't is all an old story, and my despair 

Fit subject for some new song: 

'' How the light, light love, he has wings to fly 

At suspicion of a bond : 
My wisdom has bidden your pleasure good- 
bye, 
Which will turn up next in a laughing eye, 

And why should you look beyond?'* 



ON THE CLIFF. 

I leaned on the turf, 
I looked at a rock 
Left dry by the surf; 

For the turf, to call it grass were a mock : 
Dead to the roots, so deep was done 
The work of the summer sun. 

zo8 



Robert Browning 

And the rock lay flat 

As an anvil's face : 

No iron like that ! 

Baked dry : of a weed, of a shell, no trace : 

Sunshine outside, but ice at the core, 

Death's altar by the lone shore. 

On the turf, sprang gay 

With his films of blue, 

No cricket, I '11 say, 

But a war-horse, barded and chanfroned too. 

The gift of a quixote-mage to his knight, 

Real fairy, with wings all right. 

On the rock, they scorch 
Like a drop of fire 
From a brandished torch, 
Fall two red fans of a butterfly : 
No turf, no rock, — in their ugly stead, 
See, wonderful blue and red ! 

log 



Robert Browning 

Is it not so 

With the minds of men ? 

The level and low, 

The burnt and bare, in themselves; but then 

With such a blue and red grace, not theirs, 

Love settling unawares ! 



READING A BOOK, UNDER THE CLIFF 

" Still ailing. Wind ? Wilt be appeased or no ? 

Which needs the other's office, thou or I ? 
Dost want to be disburthened of a woe, 

And can, in truth, my voice untie 
Its links, and let it go ? 

" Art thou a dumb wronged thing that would 
be righted. 
Entrusting thus thy cause to me ? Forbear ! 
No tongue can mend such pleadings ; faith, 
requited 

ZIO 



Robert Browning 

With falsehood, — Love, at last aware 
Of scorn, — hopes, early blighted, — 

" We have them ; but I know not any tone 
So fit as thine to falter forth a sorrow : 

Dost think men would go mad without a 
moan, 
If they knew any way to borrow 

A pathos like thine own ? 

" Which sigh wouldst mock, of all the sighs? 
The one 
So long escaping from lips starved and 
blue, 
That lasts while on her pallet-bed the nun 
Stretches her length; her foot comes 
through 
The straw she shivers on ; 

" You had not thought she was so tall and 
spent : m 



Robert Browning 

Her shrunk lids open, her lean fingers shut 
Close, close; their sharp and livid nails indent 

The clammy palm ; then all is mute : 
That way, the spirit went. 

'' Or wouldst thou rather that I understand 
Thy will to help me ? — like the dog I found 

Once, pacing sad this solitary strand, 

Who would not take my food, poor hound. 

But whined and licked my hand." 

All this, and more, comes from some young 
nnian's pride 

Of power to see, — in failure and mistake, 
Relinquishment, disgrace, on every side, — 

Merely examples for his sake, 
Helps to his path untried : 

Instances he must — simply recognize ? 
Oh, more than so ! — must, with a learner's 
zeal) 112 



Robert Browning 

Make doubly prominent, twice emphasize, 

By added touches that reveal 
The god in babe's disguise. 

Oh, he knows what defeat means, and the 
rest! 

Himself the undefeated that shall be : 
Failure, disgrace, he flings them you to test, — 

His triumph, in eternity 
Too plainly manifest ! 

Whence, judge if he learn forthwith what 
the wind 
Means in its moaning — by the happy 
prompt 
Instinctive way of youth, I mean ; for kind 

Calm years, exacting their accompt 
Of pain, mature the mind : 

And some midsummer morning, at the lull 
Just about daybreak, as he looks across 

"3 



Robert Browning 

A sparkling foreign country, wonderful 

To the sea's edge for gloom and gloss, 
Next minute must annul, — 

Then, when the wind begins among the vines, 
So low, so low, what shall it say but this ? 

" Here is the change beginning, here the lines 
Circumscribe beauty, set to bliss 

The limit time assigns." 

Nothing can be as it has been before ; 

Better, so call it, only not the same, 
To draw one beauty into our hearts' core 

And keep it changeless ! such our claim ; 
So answered, — Never more ! 

Simple? Why this is the old woe o' the 

world ; 

Tune, to whose rise and fall we live and 

die. 

114 



Robert Browning 

Rise with it, then! Rejoice that man is 
hurled 
From change to change unceasingly, 
His soul's wings never furled ! 

That 's a new question ; still replies the fact, 
Nothing endures : the wind moans, saying 
so; 
We moan in acquiescence: there 's life's 
pact. 
Perhaps probation — do / know ? 
Goadoes: endure his act ! 

Only, for man, how bitter not to grave 
On his soul's hands' palms one fair good 
wise thing 
Just as he grasped it! For himself, death's 

wave; 
While time first washes — ah, the sting ! — 
O'er all he 'd sink to save. 

"5 



Robert Browning 

AMONG THE ROCKS. 

Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old 

earth, 
This autumn morning ! How he sets his 

bones 
To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees 

and feet 
For the ripple to run over in its mirth ; 
Listening the while, where on the heap of 

stones 
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters 

sweet. 

That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true ; 
Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and 

knows. 
If you loved only what were worth your love ! 
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for 

you: 

ii6 



Robert Browning 

Make the low nature better by your throes ; 
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above ! 



ON DECK 

There is nothing to remember in me, 
Nothing I ever said with a grace. 

Nothing I did that you care to see, 
Nothing I was that deserves a place 

In your mind, now I leave you, set you free. 

Conceded ! In turn, concede to me. 
Such things have been as a mutual flame. 

Your soul's locked fast; but, love for a key. 
You might let it loose, till I grew the same 

In your eyes, as in mine you stand : strange 
plea! 

For then, then, what would it matter to me 
That I was the harsh, ill-favoured one ? 

We both should be like as pea and pea ; 
It was ever so since the world begun : 

So, let me proceed with my reverie. 

117 



Robert Browning 

How strange it were if you had all me, 
As I have all you in my heart and brain, 

You, whose least word brought gloom or glee, 
Who never lifted the hand in vain 

Will hold mind yet, from over the sea ! 

Strange, if a face, when you thought of me, 
Rose like your own face present now, 

With eyes as dear in their due degree. 
Much such a mouth, and as bright a brow. 

Till you saw yourself, while "ou cried '''T is 
She!" 

Well, you may, you must, set down to me 
Love that was life, life that was love ; 

A tenure of breath at your lips' decree, 
A passion to stand as your thoughts 
approve, 

A rapture to fall where your foot might be. 

But did one touch of such love for me 
Come in a word or a look of yours, 

ii8 



Robert Browning 

Whose words and looks will, circling, flee 

Round me and round while life endures — 
Could I fancy "As I feel, thus feels He;" 

Why, fade you might to a thing like me, 
And your hair grow these coarse hanks of 
hair. 
Your skin, this bark of a gnarled tree, — 
You might turn myself! — should I know 
or care. 
When I should be dead of joy, James Lee? 



119 



The Love Poems 



of 



Leigh Hunt 



Leigh Hunt 

•R there are two heavens, 

sweet, 
Both made of love, — one, 

inconceivable 
Ev'n by the other, so 

divine it is ; 
The other, far on this 

side of the stars, 
By men called Home. 



133 



Leigh Hunt 




ETTER to have the love 

of one 
Than smiles like 

morning dew ; 
Better to have a living 

seed 
Than flowers of every 

hue. 

Better to feel a love within 
Than be lovely to the sight ; 

Better a homely tenderness 
Than beauty's wild delight. 

Better to love than be beloved, 
Though lonely all the day ; 

Better the fountain in the heart 
Than the fountain by the way. 

Better the thanks of one dear heart 

Than a nation's voice of praise; 

Better the twilight ere the dawn 

Than yesterday's mid-blaze. 
124 



Leigh Hunt 



TO MY WIFE. 

ON MODELLING MY BUST. 

H, Marian mine, the face 
you look on now 
Is not exactly like my 

wedding-day's: 
Sunk is its cheek, 
deeper-retired its gaze, 
Less white and smooth its 
temple-flattened brow. 
Sorrow has been there with his silent plough, 
And strait, stern hand. No matter, if it 

raise 
Aught that affection fancies, it may praise, 
Or make me worthier than Apollo's bough. 




125 



Leigh Hunt 

Loss after all, — such loss especially, — 
Is transfer, change, but not extinction, — no ; 

Part in our children's apple cheeks I see ; 
And, for the rest, while you look at me so, 

Take care you do not smile it back to me. 
And miss the copied furrows as you go. 



126 



Leigh Hunt 

ENNY kiss'd me when we 
met, 
Jumping from the chair 

she sat in ; 
Time, you thief, who love 

to get 
Sweets into your list, put 
that in : 
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, 
Say that health and wealth have miss'd 
me. 
Say I'm growing old, but add, 
Jenny kiss'd me. 




127 



Leigh Hunt 




HERE liv'd a knight, when 

knighthood was in 

flow'r, 
Who charm' d alike the 

tilt-yard and the bow'r; 
Young, handsome, blithe, 

loyal and brave of 
course, 

He stuck as firmly to his friend as horse; 
And only show'd, for so complete a youth, 
Somewhat too perfect a regard for truth. 
He own'd 'twas inconvenient; sometimes 

felt 
A wish 'twere buckled in another's belt; 
Doubted its modesty, its use, its right, 
Yet after all remain' d the same true knight: 
So potent is a custom early taught ; 
And to such straits may honest men be 
brought. 

128 



Leigh Hunt 

'Tis true, to be believ'd was held a claim 
Of gentle blood, and not to be, a shame : — 
A liar, notorious as the noonday sun, 
Was bound to fight you, if you call'd him 

one : — 
But yet to be so nice, and stand, professed, 
All truth, was held a pedantry at best ; 
Invidious by the men ; and by the fair 
A thing at once to dote on and beware. 
What bliss to meet his flatteries, eye to eye ! 
But could he not, then, tell one little lie ? 

At length, our hero found, to take his part, 
A lovely girl, a quick and virgin heart, 
One that believ'd what any friend averr'd, 
Much more the whisp'rer of earth's sweetest 

word. 
He lov'd her for her cordial, trusting ways, 
Her love of love, and readiness to praise ; 

i2g 



Leigh Hunt 

And she lov'd him because he told her so, 
And truth makes true love doubly sweet to 
know. 

It chanc'd this lady in relation stood 
To one as beautiful, but not so good. 
Who had been blaz'd, for what indeed she 

was. 
By a young lord, over his hippocras, 
Her lover once, but now so far from tender, 
He swore he'd kick her very least defender. 
The world look'd hard for some one of her 

kin 
To teach this spark to look to his own skin; 
But no one came : the lady wept for spite : 
At length her cousin ask'd it of the knight. 

The knight look'd troubled to the last 
degree, 
Tum'd pale, then red, but said it could not 
be. 130 



Leigh Hunt 

With many sighs he said it, many pray'rs 

To be well construed — nay, at last with tears: 

And own'd a knight might possibly be better, 

Who read the truth less nicely to the letter; 

But 'twas his weakness — 'twas his educa- 
tion, — 

A dying priest had taught him, his relation, 

A kind of saint, who meant him for the 
church. 

And thus had left his breeding in the lurch ; 

The good old man! he lov'd him, and took 
blame 

(He own'd it) thus to mix his love with 
shame ; 

"But oh reflect, my sweet one," cried the 
youth; 

" How you yourself have lov'd me for my 
truth ; 

How I love you for loving it, and how 

131 



Leigh Hunt 

Secure it makes us of our mutual vow. 
To feel this hand, to look into those eyes, — 
It makes me feel as sure as of the earth and 
skies." 

'' I did love, and I do," the lady cried, 
With hand but half allow'd, and cheek aside; 
'' But then I thought you took me at my 

word, 
And would have scorn' d what I pronounc'd 

absurd. 
My cousin's wrong' d ; I'm sure of it ; do you 
Be sure as well, and show what you can do : 
Let but one mind be seen betwixt us two." 

In vain our hero, while his aspect glow'd 
To hear these lovely words, the difference 

show'd 
'Twixt her kind wishes and an ill desert : 
The more he talk'd, the more her pride was 
hurt, 132 



Leigh Hunt 

Till rais'd from glow to glow, and tear to 

tear, 
And pique to injury, she spoke of fear. 

" Fear j" cried the knight, blushing because 

he blush' d. 
While sorrow through his gaze in wonder 

rush'd; 
" Had I been present when this lord was 

heard, 
I might perhaps have stopp'd him with a 

word; 
One word (had I suspected it) to show 
How ignorant you were of what all know; 
And with what passion you could take the 

part 
Of one, unworthy of your loving heart : 
But when I know the truth, and know that he 
Knew not, nor thought, of either you or me, 

133 



Leigh Hunt 

And when I'm call'd on, and in open day, 
To swear that true is false, and yea is nay. 
And know I'm in a lie, and yet go through it, 
By all that's blest I own I cannot do it. 
Let me but feel me buckled for the right. 
And come a world in arms, I'm still a knight: 
But give my foe the truth, and me the fraud, 
And the pale scholar of the priest is awed." 

''Say not the word," the hasty fair one 
cried : 
'' I see it all, and wish I might have died. 
Go, Sir, oh go ! a soldier and afraid ! 
Was it for this you lov'd a trusting maid? 
Your presence kills me. Sir, with shame and 

grief."— 
She said ; and sunk in tears and handkerchief. 

"Ah, Mabel," said the knight, as with a 

kiss 

134 



Leigh Hunt 

He bow'd on her dropp'd head, ''you'll 

mourn for this." 
He look'd upon her glossy locks, admir'd 
Their gentleness for once, and with a sigh 

retir'd. 

- — From '' The Gentle Armour, ^^ 



135 



Leigh Hunt 




BOU BEN ADHEM (may 
his tribe increase !) 
Awoke one night from a 

deep dream of peace, 
And saw, within the 

moonlight in his room, 
Making it rich, and like 
a lily in bloom, 
An angel writing in a book of gold : — 
Exceeding peace had been Ben Adhem bold. 
And to the presence in the room he said, 
''What writest thou?*' — The vision rais'd 

its head, 
And with a look made of all sweet accord, 
Answer'd, ''The names of those who love 

the Lord." 
"And is mine one?'' said Abou. " Nay, not 



so, 



M 



Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 

136 



Leigh Hunt 

But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee then, 
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." 

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next 
night 
It came again with a great wakening light, 
And show'd the names whom love of God 

had bless'd, 
And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 



137 



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